A Rose and a Warrior
by Zealak Silverdirk
Summary: Rose awakens confused and frightened in Dark Forest, where she is greeted by Windred, who has taken it upon herself to teach the mousemaid the customs of the Forest and to help her regain her memories. Martin leaves Noonvale for unknown horizons.
1. Death and Arrival

_Zealak's [Reluctant] Note  
I _**_hate_**_ reading author's notes (and writing them) at the beginning of a story, but this one was necessary. Forget the story you once knew as _A Rose and a Warrior_, because I'm revamping it. The story is still roughly the same, but the writing, characters and plot development have hopefully changed for the better. The chapters may end up being really short, just because it'll be easier to update and for me to pick up where I left off, what with university and all. Sorry for this eyesore of a paragraph, but read on, I eagerly await your feedback!_

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**A Rose and a Warrior**

Chapter I

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The fog was lifting. The sound of screams; the scent of blood and sweat was disappearing, leaving behind a dead calm, a silence. A light breeze tickled the maid's fur, something she had not noticed during... during...

During what? She felt her brows knit together in frustration, trying to grasp at anything that could explain how she used to be, if she had been anything to begin with. As her conscious mind began to take over, it seemed there were more and more questions formulating.

She could still feel a sharp pain in her skull, heard a sickening crack, and the memory of a loss of sensation, and then darkness. But what was after the darkness? Lifting her eyelids with some difficulty, the mousemaid found herself in a forest filled with green. Trees, grasses, and flowers bloomed everywhere, filtering the sunlight and casting the area in a perpetual shade.

"Like Noonvale..." she whispered, not quite understanding. There was no reason for her to use such a name, and yet it fit this place so perfectly, maybe reminded her of something... And quick as it had come, it was gone.

Lifting her head, she took the liberty of stretching her paws, which had been lying on a flat rock before her. One paw brushed a willow wisp above her, and she recoiled, fearing it would bring with it more unexplained thoughts. There was no doubt the forest was beautiful, but there was something eerie about its stillness, like it was baiting her with ideas, pulling them away, leaving her confused and alone.

'I should get out of here,' she concluded. Perhaps there was a place that would leave her in peace. Standing on shaky paws, the mousemaid began to pick her way through the lush, overgrown grass. Eventually the forest would have to end, right?

"And just where do you think you're going, Laterose of Noonvale?"

Turning to face the speaker, the mousemaid had to clutch her head in her paws, her mind whirling and her footpaws ready to give way. She closed her eyes in an attempt to regain her balance.

"Watch yourself, my dear. It takes time to get used to everything," the speaker placed gentle paws on her shoulders to support her. "A real shame." The last part was said quietly, as though the speaker did not wish to be heard.

Blinking to clear the stars from her vision, the mousemaid stared into the face of another mouse, whose eyes reflected wisdom beyond her youthful appearance. "Thank you," the mousemaid responded automatically, and stepped away. "I have to be going."

"Where to? You've got no clue where you are, probably don't even know_ who_ you are. But I do, and I must say I'm delighted to meet you, despite the circumstances," the other mouse smiled, but her eyes were sad.

"What do you know?" the mousemaid raised a brow, confused.

"Oh, I know a lot of things, but I don't know as much about you as I would like. Then again, there's plenty of time to get to know you, Laterose of Noonvale, or do you prefer Rose?"

"Erm... Rose?" the mousemaid stared back at her vacantly.

"Rose, yes. I always seem to forget that a sudden passing can mean the memories take some time to recall. Wasn't the same for me, I remember wishing for the day that I'd come here, watching myself waste away-" She halted and bit her lip, as though she had said too much.

"Pardon me?" the mousemaid frowned, pushing away the image of a deserted beach, the scent of blood and salt. Every word this mouse said seemed to crowd her head with the same strange thoughts.

"Truthfully, dear, you are in a different state of being. You are a form of who you once were, but your memories will take time to restore, and not all of your memories will be happy ones. And even the happy ones will be bittersweet without friends to share them. Welcome to Dark Forest."

Dark Forest. It was the place creatures were meant to go when they died. Where the old were supposed to find rest after a season of pain. She knew that much. But she was still young, what need did she have of Dark Forest?

"How can you prove that we're both..."

"Dead? Well, I've head things about you for a long time, when you were with another young mouse, Martin, son of Luke. I have been a mother and grandmother to both."

'Martin's grandmother?' the thought echoed through her mind. If this was indeed her, than the other mouse was Windred, and she was Rose. And they were both...

"How can a young mouselady like you be a grandmother?" Rose almost screamed, trying desperately to keep her thoughts from that ugly word.

Windred shrugged. "I was old when I died, a slave to Badrang and his horde. But upon entering Dark Forest, I have been renewed. I look like I did as a young mousemaid, but all my memories are with me, as yours soon will be."

Rose could feel a prickling sensation in her eyes, but there were no tears, just an emptiness. Memories flooded her mind unbidden. Grumm Trencher's cooking, Brome's mischievous smile, her parents... and Martin. They were all alive together, and she was alone, save for a mouselady with a flare for brutal honesty.

Windred sighed, and wrapped the unwilling mousemaid in a hug. "It will be a long time before you can see your memories as a blessing, my dear. Your life was too short, and it is never fair to see a young life taken so easily. That is why I came looking for you, to help you."

Rose could no longer hold back her sobs, and dropped her head on Windred's shoulder, finding a little comfort in the mouselady's kind gesture. But it could not change the fact that she was confused and far from anything she had ever known.

It would be a long time before she could feel happiness again.

xxxx

_To be continued..._

_There's chapter one for you! Enjoy._


	2. Funeral and Fact

**A Rose and a Warrior**

Chapter II

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Martin sighed heavily. It was his fault. All his fault. No matter if he was awake or asleep, the thought persisted. It had become a mindless chant, and followed him like a shadow, like the stench of death. How ironic.

'Is my life nothing but a series of losses that I must endure in silence?' the mouse warrior felt anger rise unbidden in his heart yet again, and felt his paws tremble with unspent rage. There was no use revisiting it, but still he came back to the same thoughts, his companion and his torment.

Peering through the window of one of the Noonvale homes, Martin watched creatures dressed in black robes shuffling across the clearing to the burial site.

'This is it,' he thought. 'I'm sorry Rose.'

Martin had attempted to take his life not three nights ago with his own sword, and only Grumm's hasty intervention had stopped him from succeeding.

After that incident, the Noonvalers had placed him under close surveillance, but there was little point. He had long since concluded that even if he was to die, Rose would never want to see him. And why would she? His recklessness had killed her, and it should have killed him, too. His only option was to keep living, and maybe by then Rose might forgive him.

A knock on the door and a cracked voice interrupted his thoughts. "Hurr, Marthen, et bees toime... t'see miz Rosey."

"I'll be right out," he replied, heaving himself out of a finely-crafted chair.

Following the mole, who was trying to catch up with the other creatures of Noonvale, the procession led to a small brook with two willows dipping their wispy arms into the clear water. Here, a pile of soil and pebbles lay next to a freshly dug hole.

Urran Voh, leader of the Noonvalers, stood beside the plot. His face had aged dramatically since his daughter's death. "Laterose of Noonvale-my daughter-died fighting for the freedom of Marshank's slaves. Freedom is a noble goal, and a necessity for all creatures, and it is not uncommon that some feel so strongly about it that they will battle to the death. May she rest easy in Dark Forest."

It was evident that there was so much more the chieftain wished to say, but he held his peace and bowed his head, signaling that any wishing to share eulogies were welcome.

"She'm wurr ee bes' friend a moler cud haff. Oi missez ur turrible." Grumm tried unsuccessfully to keep the tears from overflowing down his cheeks, and sobs wracked his chubby frame.

Martin had a comforting paw around the mole's shoulders, his gray eyes dry. He had shed tears for the mousemaid many times in the past week, and it was not uncommon for the residents of Noonvale to be awakened in the night by his anguished cries. But he had made a promise that he would no longer disturb this beautiful place with news of war and death, travel far away, and maybe forget it all.

xxxx

After calming the mousemaid considerably, Windred concluded that it was best to get Rose in a more familiar setting. Unfortunately she was prone to walk and talk at the same time, about things that Rose would have rather left until later. The mouselady was well into one of her speeches now.

"It's not all bad, being dead, you know. You can eat, sleep and communicate just as you used to, without all the hassles of everyday life. If you're in the right place at the right time, you can even see into the old world. I've seen you in your travels a few times. Shame I had to see the end of it."

"But what about you seeing my... passing? How is that even possible?" the mousemaid chose her words carefully, still avoiding the word 'death'.

"Well, I've heard some say back when I was alive, that the stars in the sky were like ponds in Dark Forest, reflecting the actions of the creature you are searching for in the Old Forest. That's not really how it is here, it's more like... if you want to find something bad enough, you will... Hard to believe it's true when you're living, but when you're dead it's not so farfetched."

"Small comfort," Rose murmured.

"Oh, don't be that way. You'll appreciate seeing the living world when you get the chance."

"What about the ones you're looking for that are no longer living? Can you use the same method?" the mousemaid still seemed skeptical.

"Afraid not. Dark Forest is a lot like the living world that way. Any that have died you've got to find on your own, no help from supernatural sources. Put it this way, anybeast you've ever heard of that died will be here, if that makes it any easier," Windred shrugged, and Rose guessed it was a difficult idea to speak of.

"Even Badrang?" Rose gasped.

"No, of course not dearie. Hellgates is where he went, along with all the other evil creatures in the world. Only the creatures who have uncorrupted hearts can awaken in the Dark Forest." The mouselady said all this flippantly, as though she had never given it much thought.

"So, if vermin do make it here, they are able to co-exist with other creatures?"

"Precisely. Although there aren't that many, don't be surprised if you see rats, foxes, and the like. They have the best parties, you know," Windred smiled wide, revealing milk-white teeth, and Rose could not stop herself chuckling at the sight.

"There now, y'see! Dark Forest isn't all bad, you've just got to find the good in it, and let me tell you, there's far more good than bad. It's all a matter of opinion. A beast could spend an eternity moping about the life they might have lived, but what would be the point? The one you had was good enough, and you're able to live a better one here, so go to it!"

'Sounds like there's a lot I still have to learn,' the mousemaid concluded, watching the shaded forest around her. "Where exactly are we going, anyways?" she said after a pause.

"To a party, of course," Windred beamed.

xxxx

_To be continued..._

_Anyone else who's ever rewritten a story found that it's disgusting and painful reading through your old material? I do, all the time, and the only comfort I have is knowing that it won't be as horrible once I'm finished writing it. The same goes for this story. I've still kept many ideas and even some of the dialogue, but hopefully it's all being presented in a better way this time around.  
By the by, I really like the idea in Kenneth Oppel's _Firewing_ that creatures would lose their memories. If you haven't read it, you should check it out!_


	3. Talking and Thinking

**A Rose and a Warrior**

Chapter III

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"Sources tell me the Reynard Brothers will be playing there tonight, so expect some good fun!" Rose still found it odd that Martin's own grandmother could be so carefree and only concerned for the ever-present.

When the two mice finally did make it to the gathering area, the Forest had grown even darker, prompting Windred to go on a tirade about Dark Forest's inability to filter sunlight and the only advantage here in the dark was when you fell you couldn't hurt yourself.

Two creatures, a weasel and a mole, were at the entrance to the gathering area; a large ring of closely planted trees with thorns that wove all around the trees, creating an effect like a fence with barbed wire. Windred assured the mousemaid that this was to ensure that no creature entered without being registered.

"The hosts here are very strict about recording attendance, probably just in case somebeast breaks something or causes a fight," Windred shrugged, her mind obviously on the festivities and not the legal implications.

The mole at the entrance crinkled his snout to Windred in a smile of recognition and spoke. "Hurr, Windred. You'm bark agin, wid comp'ny too. Gudd."

The weasel standing opposite the mole regarded the duo suspiciously and asked for their names, which he proceeded to write down in a guestbook.

As they passed the two guards, Windred whispered to Rose. "That mole back there, Grubby, he's almost as deaf as a rock, he can barely hear, but he manages somehow."

Rose nodded in acknowledgement, but was more focused on the creatures around her. All varieties. Mice and bankvoles, squirrels and shrews even an owl and two hawks. True to Windred's prediction there was a trio of foxes, playing a lively jig on their fiddles.

Scanning the rows of creatures, she noticed a mouse seated by a patch of flowers, gulping down a beaker of something.

"I thought you said we didn't need to eat," Rose wondered aloud.

"We don't. We only eat if we want to," Windred answered. "I've got somebeasts I need to talk to, so you'll excuse me if I don't introduce you."

Rose decided to approach the mouse and try an attempt at conversation with him. Perhaps he could explain some things about Dark Forest.

"This is a wonderful party, isn't it?"

"No use talkin' to that one, missie, he don't know how t'speak." A gray squirrel sat down next to the mouse, cutting an apple for the two of them. "Methinks he died while still a babe."

"What makes you say that?" Rose asked, horrified.

"I jest passing through a piece of land I'd never seen here, and came across the fabled Gates of Dark Forest, guarded by badgers since who-knows-when. I won't go inte many details, but I saw a family come through them, dressed in tattered silks and lookin' just as thin."

"They physically passed through the Gates?"

"Everybeast here knows the story that only royalty or the noblest of the noble can come through those Gates, so I'm thinkin' those mice was part'a some broken kingdom. Lord Brocktree, the current Gatekeeper, would only let the young 'un through, an' tol' the others they had t'go back. Two were terrified, sayin' that they couldn't leave a newborn t'fend fer 'imself, even in Dark Forest. Now, somehow, Brocktree knew I was there the whole time, an' he even called me out to take responsibility for the young 'un, seein' as I was hangin' around where I wasn't wanted. They all looked so relieved to have somebeast t'look after this'n that it wasn't like I cud say no."

The mousemaid could only sit there, trying to absorb all this new information. Gates? Royalty? What was with all this? But she wasn't given much time to think, as a tough but familiar face came to sit among them.

"Ah, an' here's me newest son, 'e don't have a name yet, though. Got'ny ideas?"

"Felldoh?" Rose gaped, for indeed it was he.

The tough squirrel snorted. "Felldoh? Wot kinda name is that? Sounds like I fell outta a tree an' hit me head. Fell_dont_ would be a wiser name."

Rose felt completely helpless and confused. Surely the squirrel standing before her was the same one that had battled for the freedom of Marshank's slaves? Only a few day's difference in death and he could not remember her?

"Hm... Felldoh. 'S a good name. Felldoh an' Firky, sons o' Rowlock Spokeshave," the squirrel chuckled to himself, still cutting the apple for his adopted son.

"Oh come on, dad. That sounds awful," Felldoh pouted.

Rose could almost feel the bile rising in her throat, if there was any. This was far too surreal. First she was dead, now she was remembering her life, and now she was meeting creatures who existed without memories. The final stroke was meeting Felldoh, his mind now a blank slate.

Truly there was some sinister magic in Dark Forest.

xxxx

The night of the funeral was a solemn one. The cooks had made a half-hearted attempt at a meal, but no creature felt the desire to eat. Martin figured that most of it would end up in his traveling packs by early morning.

Almost immediately after the burial, the residents of Noonvale retreated to their homes, some still sobbing, others were even too shocked to move. It had been a strange day, as though time had stood still, in honour of the fallen mousemaid.

When they were back inside the house of Urran Voh, Grumm tried one last time to convince his warrior friend to reconsider.

"Marthen, miz Rosey wud want ee t'be happy, an' weem udd need ye here. B'ain't roight, leavin' 'er behoind loike this. At least lemme come withee."

The warrior mouse sighed, his heart heavy. "You've been a wonderful friend to me, Grumm Trencher, and I'll never forget you, but there are some things that fate just won't allow. Staying here is one of them. I make no promises, but I'm almost certain we'll see each other again one day, so don't worry."

The kindly mole wrapped the warrior in a tight hug to stem the tears in his eyes. "Oi'll miss ee turrible Marthen. Doan't furgit us'ns. We'em allus 'member ee." Stemming a sob, he looked up again. His voice was shaky but firm. "An' never furgit miz Rosey, long as ee lives."

Martin returned the embrace, biting his lip as he felt the sting of tears. "I'll never forget, Grumm Trencher: about you, Noonvale, or Rose."

The two friends did not speak afterward, and Grumm waved in silence from the window of his home, watching the mighty warrior disappear into the trees. From then on, Noonvale knew Martin no longer as just a warrior; he was a legend.

xxxx

_To be continued..._

_I kind of liked the way this chapter turned out, that there was no reconciliation between Martin and Urran Voh, because, quite frankly, I think it'd be impossible. Brome didn't really appear anywhere, but I just don't think I could've portrayed his character right. Grumm just had to be there, because he's amazing and I'd totally want him as a best friend, and I think he understands Martin best_


	4. Explanations and Wanderings

_I hope you enjoy this chapter! - ZS_

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**A Rose and a Warrior**

Chapter IV

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By the time the fox fiddlers had stopped playing and many of the attendants had departed (some to the next party), Rose had made up her mind that she must see for herself the Gates of Dark Forest, and learn all the secrets the Forest was hiding.

She had left Felldoh and his adoptive family some time ago, unable to separate her reality and her friend's "memories," making conversation difficult. The only notable thing that happened between the group was when Firky had identified his adoptive father has "Wohawk", prompting Rowlock to burst into proud, fatherly tears.

Bidding the two mice farewell, she pushed her way through the thinning crowd until she caught sight of Windred drinking with two otters and a vole with a stomach the size of a hare's. It was obvious that the mousewife had become incredibly tipsy as she leaned heavily on the vole's shoulder, occasionally spilling her drink on his head.

Rose waited patiently on the outskirts of the conversation, hoping for a good time to jump in and suggest that they leave. A moment later, one of the otters stumbled backwards into a fruit tray, the others laughing uproariously. It was as good a time as any.

"Come now, Windred, it's about time we left," Rose prompted, grabbing the mouse's elbow.

"Awww! Can' I jes' h-have a liddle more fun?" The mousewife hiccuped twice, dropping her drink. "Whad a wasssse!"

Rose sighed heavily, still dragging Windred away from the party. "I'm sure you've got more important things to do besides drink 'til you pass out."

"Dead things don' sleep. 'Sides, we sober quick."

"Ah, a mousebabe did you say? Always sad when one of them comes this early to Dark Forest, knowing nothing and unable to recall a single memory." Windred had apparently recovered as quickly as she had said.

"What do you mean by that?" Rose pressed.

"We all awaken in Dark Forest with the bodies of our youth. For the old, like myself, it is a blessing, but to the youngsters who have regained their memories, the transition is confusing and sometimes depressing, as they begin to wonder what could have been.

"Those who are not prepared to die have a difficult time recalling their memories, which makes sense, since as a younger beast you would focus more on the present and future compared to the past... But the ones who are too young to understand, they have the worst time of it. They never learned what it meant to live, and so they must rely on the kind of life they can obtain in Dark Forest. For them to have any recall is miraculous, but they will mainly rely on other beasts to care for them."

"Like the mouse..." Rose mumbled, mostly to herself.

"Hoi, you... Rose!"

The mousemaid turned expectantly toward the familiar voice. Felldoh stood a ways away, obviously fighting with some inner doubts, probably about her. "What is it, Felldoh?" Rose asked, trying her best to keep the edge of sadness out of her voice.

Apparently the squirrel heard it, because he approached cautiously, his head tilted as if under the weight of an unasked question. He still didn't say anything until he was an arm's length away from her.

"Who in Hellgates is Felldoh?" Fortunately he sounded more bemused than angry.

Rose expected to hear something from Windred, but the mouselady remained silent, indicating that this was Rose's territory. 'Thanks for the help,' she thought to herself.

"You're Felldoh."

"No, who's really Felldoh? You couldn't've just pulled that name out of thin air," he frowned.

"I wish I could tell you everything, but I didn't know much about you when... to begin with. Your father was Barkjon, and your best friends were Martin and my brother Brome." She didn't want to be the one to tell him about his gruesome death at the paws of Badrang's horde.

"There's something important you're not telling me Rose. All I hear are bits and pieces," the squirrel took another step forward, staring down at the mousemaid with smoldering eyes.

"You'll have to find that out for yourself, Felldoh," she replied shortly. Even if he threatened her, what could you possibly do to a creature that was already dead?

"Then let me come with you, wherever you happen t'be going," he pressed. "Maybe you'll feel like telling me something soon."

"But what about Rowlock and Firky?" Rose frowned.

Felldoh shrugged. "Dunno, soon as you made t'leave he did the same, I guess. Took Firky with 'im. 'E knows I kin look after myself. Where're you two headed?" he asked again.

"Well, I've got a place in mind," Windred beamed, as though the confrontation had never happened.

Rose sighed. Leave it to Windred. "Where to?"

"It's time you met Luke and Sayna."

xxxx

Martin had finally stopped for the day. Hunger was gnawing at his empty stomach, but in an effort to conserve his supplies he just ate whatever came his way on the road.

Sitting himself down on a tree stump, the mouse warrior calculated the distance he had travelled so far. Noonvale and any of the landmarks he knew that led to it were out of sight, so he must have gone fairly far for a days' journey.

Popping wild raspberries into his mouth, he wondered what the road would be like ahead of him. How far would he go? Would it be better? Would he be able to move on? Where was he going to go? He didn't even know where here was.

All these things passed through his mind as twigs cracked in the forest directly behind him. Acting as though he had not heard the obvious noise, Martin silently pulled his sword from its sheath and held it ready.

"Hoi yew! Mousey!" a gruff voice called from the surrounding trees. "T'ain't good manners te pick apart somebeast's property!" Leaves showered down on the warrior mouse's head as a hedgehog perched upside down appeared from the trees.

Martin let out a sigh, but kept a tight grip on his sword. "My apologies. I'm just passing through here!"

"Hmph! Well that's a lame excuse!" said a second hedgehog directly above the mouse. "Yew shoulda pegged 'im while yew 'ad the chance, Alto!"

"An' why didn' yew, Octa? Yew were right above 'im!"

The two hedgehogs began arguing with each other, completely ignoring their trespasser.

Martin shook his head, sheathing his sword. "Can I speak to some sensible beast?!"

"That ye may, mousey," said a new voice. A one-eyed sparrow stood at his feet. "Ignore the hogs, they argue like shrews. I'll take ye t'see Ribad. I'm Pluto, by the way. Lookin' after those two is an awful job."

The arguing continued at a steady rate, neither fading from hearing nor getting any louder. Martin figured they must have been following. "How does it work around here?" he asked.

"Not well, I'm afraid. Hasn't since everybeast moved up from the south during the drought too many summers back te recall. Everybeast fer himself. Still, we're alive and learnin' te flourish agin. Where d'ye hail from mousey?"

"The far north. I am called Martin."

Pluto looked him up and down shrewdly. "Aye, yer a northerner alright. Had some run-ins wi' bad comp'ny, I see. You alone?"

"Yes," Martin replied, almost too quickly. Rose and Noonvale were still so fresh in his mind.

The sparrow blinked, but said nothing.

They walked on, the silence of the woods broken only by the two hedgehogs shrieking back and forth. A topple of trees appeared ahead, and Pluto flitted to an opening covered by strings of moss. The trunks formed a dome and Martin felt himself pulled back in time to Polleekin's treehouse. Maybe he could go back and see her-

"Martin, eh?!" a clear baritone pulled him back to reality. Pluto had turned to face him, along with an ancient beaver, the apparent occupant of the tree-dome. The beaver scrambled out of his home, coughing to hide a smile.

The beaver stumped toward him, then proceeded to sniff Martin. Try as he might, the mouse warrior could not mask all his confusion, and the two hedgehogs tittered from above. "Mousey got bad manners for a gennelbeast!"

Finally the silver-haired beaver seemed satisfied and looked Martin straight in the face. "Things down here're different than what you're used to, Martin. You smell of war, when all we know is peace. But we need you, aye, we need you."

"Kick his tail outta here, Ribad! 'E was eatin' our berries earlier!" one the hedgehogs interrupted.

"Yeah, 'e ain' nothin' but a mooch!"

Ribad snorted. "Shut up the two of ya! Don't make me tell cousin Trixy!"

At this the two hedgehogs fell silent and dropped from the trees on either side of Ribad, wailing and clinging to the beaver's tunic.

'Like Pygmys,' Martin thought before he could stop himself.

"Don't mind these two Martin. Alto and Octa are just some orphans my cousin found when he came here. I'm just looking after them while he- well, I'd best tell you inside." Ribad motioned to the opening in the trees, shooing the two hedgehogs off with the other paw.

The beaver waited for his guest to clamber inside before signaling to Pluto. Blinking his understanding, the sparrow flitted away silently.

xxxx

_To be continued..._


	5. Relatives and Sinister Cloaks

_Random Thought: When I update my entire story, I always wait until I've finished rewriting every chapter and finished writing the latest chapter. It's a killer to execute, but I can't seem to stop myself, and I love seeing my story develop and change as I rewrite it. So far, I'm very happy with where it's going. - ZS_

* * *

**A Rose and a Warrior**

Chapter V

* * *

Ribad's home was tiny and utilitarian. The logs were fitted together expertly, and pack with moss and dried mud. Two stumps, possibly leftovers from the trunks, occupied one corner with well-trimmed oil lamps, and a pile of grass mats another. A pot-belly stove occupied the center of the hut, with a long pipe leading through the ceiling. The only form of ornamentation in the hut was a fox tail hung over the entranceway.

The silver-furred beaver extricated two mats from the corner and bade Martin sit down. The warrior mouse obliged willingly. Upon further inspection, the mats were weaved in expert patterns, some dyed and even woven with small pictures. Noticing the mouse's interest Ribad shrugged modestly.

"It's part of me trade, I s'pose. If I'm not makin' timber I'm makin' art, Trixy used t'say. As I was tellin' you out there, Trixy's not with us anymore. Gone off t'find his calling, he said. Wouldn't give any of us much hint of what that was exactly, but said that he was goin' to find answers to his dreams. Somethin' about cloaks an' destiny. Somethin' about those mice too." Ribad squinted over Martin's shoulder, trailing off incoherently.

"Pardon me, Ribad. But does Trixy have anything to do with why you asked me here?"

The ancient beaver blinked once and looked back at the warrior. "Y'say you're travelin' Martin? S'pose y'don't know much about us then.  
"In the south, there was a great castle ruled by fair mice. Nobeast knows how long their line is, 'cept for the mice, 'scusing yerself, I s'pose. Ever since a drought in the far south nearly starved and burned us out, many of the creatures who lived there moved up here. Including the High King and his offspring. The drought continued for many a season, nothin' nobeast'd ever seen before, so everybeast just stayed up here. Things started to fall apart in the royal court, as survival beat out hierarchy. Quite a few kings were okay with that. In fact, the line practically died out, save fer the efforts of our current lordship t'keep 'is title. Then somethin' happened that ruffled 'is whiskers. Cats took over his castle, an' the High King wanted to get it back. Hoped 'is son would take up the dream when 'e got older, but the young un died a babe. Almost took the whole of the royal family with 'im too."

When Ribad lapsed into silence again, Martin waited for him to speak while pulling at a loose strand on his grass mat. The ancient beaver coughed in alarm but continued his tale.

"As I was sayin'! The High King loved his son dearly- not just for the idea of his regainin' the throne, y'know- and eventually discovered that there was legend of a band of dreamers and soothsayers that might help 'im be reunited with 'is son. Dunno why anybeast'd try that, but this is jus' comin' from an ole bachelor…. In any case, rumours have it that nothin' could be done for 'im 'til Dark Forest's Gates were unlocked. Somebeast's supposed t'come along an open 'em- load o' rubbish!- an' these soothsayers were given the job of findin' just the beast. Only know half o' this 'cause Trixy tole me 'e saw it in a dream. Aye, and the dream told 'im t'go lookin' for the dreamers, and could y'look after me baby cousins if y'please? Huh!"

"Is that all?" Martin asked, his head practically swimming with new information.

"Just about. Thought I'd warn ye case beasts down here start askin' y'weird questions. 'Scuse me, but I gotta call in those rascals fer supper." Shuffling to the entrance, Ribad pulled out a bone whistle hung about his neck and blew three sharp blasts. In mere moments the two hogs had tumbled through the entrance on top of their caretaker.

"Blow me spikes Ribad, y'shouldn' stand so close t'the door!"

"I'll spike you Octa, y'useless pincushion! Where's me blackburries fer afters, eh?"

"Here!" Alto held up the basket triumphantly, grinning a purple-stained smile.

Dusting himself off, Ribad turned to the mouse warrior. "Does spring vegetible soup suit yer fancy Martin?"

Before he could respond, the mouse was tackled by Alto and Octa who fought among themselves for the chance to sit closest to Martin's sword. Ribad hid a laugh behind an angry cough while pulling the soup from the coals of the stove. Setting the large pot between them, Ribad passed them each a large spoon and a chunk of bread. "Octa, yore turn t'say the graces," he mumbled.

Octa obliged with a purple smile.

"Thanks fer the bounty o' the bushes  
The skies, the rocks, an' the trees,  
Thanks fer the comp'ny round the fire  
An' give us more suppers like these!"

"Well said!" Alto and Ribad chimed as they dug their spoons into the soup.

The soup had a good flavour with more vegetables than the warrior mouse could put a name to, and was good and hot. Although the pot was full to the brim, the contents within declined rapidly in a contest to see who could down the most spoonfuls. Alto emptied the pot happily, and Martin found himself smacking his lips along with the others.

The aforementioned berries had been soaking in honey while supper was eaten, and tasted even better ladled atop a plate of wafer-thin scones.

Before dessert was even over, the two hedgehogs were calling on the beaver to sing a song for their guest. Coughing in embarrassment Ribad produced a little accordion and tapped his paddle-like tail to the rhythm. The beat was easy and soon had Martin and the hedgehogs clapping along.

Rum tum tiddle um row ho hey  
Eat all night and sleep all day!  
Rum tum tiddle um row ho hey  
I love me job but it don't pay!

Ain't I fine ole sight t'see  
The bachelor life's the life for me  
Don't need no dame t'prattle on  
Guess we don't really know wot we got 'til it's gone!

Two hogbabes an' an ole tree home  
Shaped a bit like a dam-it's a dome!  
It's a mess in here but we don' cry  
I say "sit right back an' pass the pie!"

Sing a rum tum tiddle um row ho hey  
Eat all night and sleep all day!  
Rum tum tiddle um row how hey  
I love me job but it don't pay!

xxxx

Meanwhile, Pluto flit frantically through the trees. He and Trixy had always been good friends, and when he had lost the hedgehog to supernatural urgings there had been little to cheer him. But something about the warrior mouse had piqued his interest, and the sparrow was almost certain that this Martin would be important to Trixy. Ribad's consent had spurred him on.

Finding the location of those soothsayers would take a lifetime, but spreading the news of a foreign mouse might spark the appropriate interest.

The twilit forest was soon replaced by lush grass much taller than himself, the mountains of the north taking large bites out of the bleeding horizon. As the land rose gradually around the sparrow, the grass became dotted with natural hedges through the foothills, and a small path became visible. Pluto felt himself smile, lighting on the hard-packed earth in silence. A broken lamp shone a short distance up the path.

"Still as thrifty as ever," Pluto chuckled. He hop-skipped his way through the foothills, occasionally coming across another broken, yet well-lit lamp to guide him through the descending darkness.

At the base of the first tooth of the mountains stood a longhouse a with loft fashioned much like the houses near the docks of the western sea. Also much like its nautical counterpart, the loft emitted a soft and steady yellow glow. The longhouse beneath was much more interesting to the sparrow.

Although painted peeled shamelessly from the outer walls and cracked window panes whispered of better days, the double doors of the entrance were flanked by two more of the telltale lamps, although these two were much better tended. One of the doors was propped open with a pale blue rock, possibly the fanciest thing in the vicinity. More light accompanied the sounds of music, laughter, and off-key ballads- the sounds of life. A sigh escaped Pluto, as though he were returning home from a long journey.

He entered like he owned the place, clapping familiar faces on the back (and sometimes into their drinks) and waving, the sparrow hopped up to the counter. A grizzled rabbit with few teeth to speak of or with poured tankards with practiced ease, hollering orders above the din. A fox assistant scurried back and forth, laden with plates heaped with savoury foods. It took some time for the old rabbit to notice Pluto, but when he did his lips constantly twitched a smile.

"Back fer yer midsummer top-up, I s'pose, eh Pluto?" he cackled.

Pluto returned the cackle. "Long as you'll continue with the good eats and even better ales, I'll always come 'round!"

"So it's barnacle grog with a plate o' bread 'nd cheese, innit?"

"Jus' like every summer, Horace," the sparrow grinned and slapped a few coins on the oiled countertop. "I'll be in me usual spot."

Pluto settled into a makeshift seat, really just a worn cushion placed in the window box. Three otters bulled their through the crowd to take seats next to the sparrow, upsetting multiple tables and setting Horace's wife, the bar matron, to fever pitch as she followed the spills.

"Ah sure, an' y'remember yer three brothers from the west, eh sparrow?" the otter with the most tattoos asked.

"Where's Rurrim?"

"Messed wi' the wrong sea lass! Once 'er daddee found out about 'im, 'e made sure Rurrim'd stick around t'be a good father!" At this remark, more than just the four of them joined in the laughter.

"So're y'lookin' fer stories t'day or tellin' 'em?" an otter called Sheelok looked at the sparrow with innocent eyes.

"Telling fer sure," Pluto smirked back. "A mouse showed up in the forest t'day. Never seen the like of him afore. Looked like a great warrior, even though 'e was so young! He's gunna be a big deal someday, I tell ye! His name should be Martin, if I 'eard right."

Nobeast noticed, but a squint-eyed weasel slipped out of the double doors of the tavern.

xxxx

_To be continued…._

_Wow, I never realized how fun song writing could be! I can see why Jacques did it so often, the great man. I always avoided it because I didn't want to sound corny, but that's kind of the point isn't it? Anyways, in case you didn't notice, those two huge paragraphs in this chapter are important, so don't forget them!  
I feel so refreshed having revived and revamped this story. I just know that I want to finish the tale I had originally intended to tell, and I'm happy that I can share my improvements too._


	6. In-laws and Journeys

_[Another Reluctant] Author's Note  
__So, if you were following this story all those years ago, this is the place you should end up at, right? If that's the case, you'd better go back to chapter one right now! A lot has changed, yes indeed. Happy reading!_

_ZS_

* * *

**A Rose and a Warrior**

Chapter VI

* * *

Felldoh's eyes burned into the back of her neck, causing Rose to walk in an uncomfortable silence. Windred babbled ceaselessly about Dark Forest's landscape, her son's cottage, and a good deal about food.

"And my grandson, Martin! If he were here-" The mouselady bit her lip.

"Martin? Why do I know that name?" Felldoh glared even harder at Rose, as though he could draw out the answers.

"Well, it's quite a common name. I'm sure there's one Martin for every species. For instance, I met a hare at a party once; Martin was his third name. Rutherford Cleveland Martin Bethel van Durren, or something like that," Windred chattered on. Felldoh remained unconvinced.

"I only knew one Martin, I'm sure of it."

Rose blinked hard. There was nothing for it, and Felldoh needed to know. He was searching for the answers in his clouded memory, but that obviously wasn't good enough. When she opened her eyes, she saw that both Felldoh and Windred were watching her carefully. The mouselady seemed to be trying to tell her with her eyes "gently." Rose nodded almost imperceptibly and swallowed back her uneasiness.

The young squirrel looked expectant. "What is it, Rose?"

"Martin was a great friend of ours…. Well, to me he was more than a friend." She shook her head to clear her thoughts. "Anyways, he was the greatest mouse I've ever known, he gave hope to creatures when there was none. I don't know for certain that he killed Badrang, but I have a feeling that he-"

"Badrang?" Felldoh's eyes were hard as stone. "I know that name, too. What else can you tell me? There are other names that you know, tell me!"

"Stick with names, Rose," Windred said, barely above a whisper.

Rose bit her lip, but stared directly into the squirrel warrior's eyes. "Brome, Clogg, Marshank, Celandine, Juniper, Grumm, Barkjon, Mar-"

Felldoh gasped, and his knees gave out from under him. The tears had cut tracks down his cheeks before he could stop them. "No. No. I know those names, those faces, no! Why was I so stupid?! Creatures were counting on me and I… I let myself get _killed_! For nothing!" He sobbed into his paws, shoulders heaving with the release. "Why?! I left my father alone!" He curled in on himself, paws at his stomach, as though the pain were tearing him up from the inside.

Rose knelt next to the squirrel, but made no move to comfort. She couldn't. Suddenly he grabbed her paws.

"I'm such a fool, Rose! What can I do?" He broke down into sobs once more, choking on air and tears. Windred sat down next to him, and although it was no small feat, she sat and rocked him just like any mother, just as his mother must have. It may have been hours, or even days before Felldoh became quiet, completely exhausted by his own tears.

Rose stroked the sleeping warrior's head. "How long will he be like this?"

Windred shrugged, still rocking him. "He won't be asleep long, he just tired himself out, which is good. Sleep is a healer, even in Dark Forest. But he will have to face facts eventually, better it be sooner. He may not want to talk to you for awhile, and don't force him, even by apologizing. He needs to start on his own terms."

Rose stared out at nothing. Was Dark Forest meant to be such a lonely place?

xxxx

Martin waved goodbye to Ribad and the hedgehog twins the following morning, revealing one of his few smiles since Rose's death. The mouse warrior had decided to continue on southward, to distant himself as much as possible from Noonvale and its memories.

The weather was dreary with gray swirling clouds, like a thunderstorm was brewing. "The skies is ready t'split-can't handle humidity fer anythin'. I kin feel it in me whiskers," the aging beaver had predicted. "Stay away from the meadows t'the east; no sense getting caught out there when the storm lets loose."

Martin had never considered even going east, but thanks to Ribad's advice, he would be completely avoiding the mountains.

"Why'd yew tell Martin t'stay 'way from the mountains?" Octa asked.

The beaver shrugged. "That's a special mouse y'just saw. But he's got some that he needs dealin' with, an' Pluto an' hopefully Trixy'll help."

xxxx

Felldoh had refused to talk to Rose since he recovered from the shock, and she couldn't really blame him. There was too much to think about. He wasn't talking to Windred either.

"They should be expecting me, but it'll be difficult to explain you two." She chuckled. "I've got me some new grandchildren, Luke! One pretty as the dawn and the other won't look bad once we shave his tale. Ho, Luke!"

A grim-looking mouse had materialized from the trees, and even Windred looked surprised. Rose most of all.

Martin was an exact copy of his father.

Rose fidgeted and fell back from Windred unconsciously. Not much had surprised her in the Dark Forest, but this was too much. She was forming a thought to escape when the mouse warrior fixed his black eyes on her.

"So you're Laterose," he said, and the mouse in question wondered at just how much he knew.

"Y-yes," she stammered. "Good to… meet you."

Windred stood off to the side with Felldoh, leaving Rose like a mouse in the claws of a cat. Her stomach gave phantom turns. What would he say about her? She just wanted to hide.

Luke the warrior smiled amiably. "You're as pretty as your name suggests. I wish we could have met in better circumstances." He extended his paw for a shake, and Rose took his paw in both of hers.

"Martin looks exactly like you," was all she could think to say.

"Pity, isn't it? But at least he has his mother's eyes."

With that, the spell was broken. Rose laughed, and Windred breathed a sigh of relief.

"Windred has been telling awful tales about me, I can tell just by looking at you, Laterose. I hope Martin's view of me isn't nearly as strict." He smiled sadly. "I wish that fate had let us see your grandchildren."

Rose couldn't think of anything to say, and Windred had the presence of mind to intervene. "Cut that kind of talk, Luke! It's unfortunate enough for her that she and Martin were separated, you don't need to rub salt in those wounds. In any case, her name is Rose, and this is her companion Felldoh."

The forgotten squirrel nodded solemnly, still not in a talking mood. Luke was glad for some distraction from his scolding.

"Another warrior, eh? Dark Forest can't keep its paws off of them."

Windred scowled, and addressed the newcomers. "You'll have to excuse my son. He's never been one to mince words, even in the right way, but he means nothing ill by it. I'm sure you'll find Sayna balances him out splendidly."

"Indeed," Luke grumbled into his beard. "My wife had a feeling you would come around again Windred, and she sent me out for you. I think she'll also be delighted for the extra guests." The warriormouse turned abruptly on his heels and tramped into the undergrowth.

Windred looked about to say something, but Rose cut her off. "It's alright, it's the way of the warrior. And Luke is a grand mouse."

"You always were too understanding of the ways of warriors, Rose." Felldoh looked just as surprised as the two ladymice. "Well, come on, let's not lose him!"

xxxx

_To be continued…._

_I won't say too much about my own experiences, but I've been through serious depressions before. I can't make it sound as awful as it actually is, but I wouldn't wish it on anyone to find out for themselves._

_This chapter is kind of, well, it_ is_ all over the place, but I'm pleased with how it turned out, and I was more than ready to this story updated. The last time I tried to update I lost all of the files and had to start writing again from scratch. So. much. pain. The great thing that I can tell you right now is that I actually have the next chapter in my head as I type this, so it will. be. finished._


End file.
